


In The Arms Of Sleep

by illimerence



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, PWP, Rimming, Sleepy Sex, Somnophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-09
Updated: 2014-11-09
Packaged: 2018-02-24 17:35:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2590256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illimerence/pseuds/illimerence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carlos dreams that he's in Night Vale, and having sex with his boyfriend. (Then he wakes up, and he's in Night Vale, and having sex with his boyfriend.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	In The Arms Of Sleep

Carlos is dreaming.

 In his dream, he is at home, in his lab in Night Vale. (This is how he knows he’s dreaming. He’s not in Night Vale, hasn’t been for - weeks? Months? How long has it even been?)

 There is important work that needs to be done, things to be discovered and theorized about and experimented with, and he’s very aware of that in the panicky way you only really feel in dreams, but he’s not doing any of that work. Instead, he’s bent over his desk (the one with the big yellow lamp and the reams of paper hidden in the false bottom of the top drawer that he uses for writing up experiments), and someone’s on their knees behind him, eating him out.

 He clutches the edge of the desk and arches his back and tries to look back at the person who currently has their tongue in his ass, but their face is entirely in shadow. It feels good, though - their hands firm on his ass, pulling his cheeks apart and leaving him exposed; their tongue wet and hot and messy against his hole. He moans, wordlessly, and presses back against that nameless mouth.

 He dreams tentacles sliding slowly around his ankles, winding up his calves and pulling his legs apart to make access to his asshole that much easier. He grips the desk tighter, spreads his legs to the best of his ability, and puts one hand back to tangle his fingers in the shadowy figure’s hair. The figure presses closer, tongue breaching the tight ring of muscle to lick inside him, and god, that feels so good - “God,” he manages, “Fuck, Cecil -”

 “Carlos,” Cecil purrs, “Darling Carlos.”

 Carlos tightens his fingers on the desk and feels sheets instead. His laboratory is starting to melt away, the flasks and test tubes and beakers melting into nonexistence, the desk turning soft and warm. A dream. A dream, and that was all.

 He’s not at his lab. He’s not in Night Vale. He’s at an encampment in the middle of an infinite desert, sleeping on a makeshift mattress next to an army of giant men and women and others, and he’s definitely not getting rimmed by his boyfriend.

 But then there’s a slick finger stroking at his hole and his eyes fly open, and -

 “Cecil,” he groans.

 Cecil smiles down at him, eyes glowing faintly lilac in the dark, and presses one long, thin finger into Carlos.

 “ _Dios_ ,” Carlos swears, hips jerking. “Cecil, fuck.”

 “Are you properly awake, now, Carlos?” Cecil says, voice smooth and deep. “Here amongst the living?” He crooks his finger in just the right angle and a spark bursts at the base of his spine; Carlos feels his stomach muscles tighten and release with the pleasure of it.

 “Cecil,” he says again, then, “Yeah, yes. I’m here, I’m awake - I’m -”

 Cecil slides another finger in beside the first one. “Good,” he says, almost to himself, then, “You just looked so beautiful lying there beside me, and I missed you so much…” He twists his fingers and Carlos moans again, pressing his face into the pillow so as not to make too much noise. “I just had to touch you,” Cecil continues. “Beautiful Carlos, it’s been so long… I can’t get enough of the way you taste.” He leans in and licks around his fingers. Carlos sobs.

 “Cecil,” he says, voice muffled, “Querida, I missed you too - I love you, Cecil -”

 “Oh, Carlos,” Cecil says. The hand that isn’t currently reducing Carlos to a puddle of nerve endings goes to Carlos’ thick hair and strokes gently, then tugs, guiding Carlos to turn his head to the side. Cecil kisses him, deep and dirty. God, Carlos thinks, his tongue has been in my ass, and he’s surprised at how that makes his cock twitch underneath him.

 “I want to be inside you,” Cecil murmurs against the skin of Carlos’ neck.

 “Please,” says Carlos, and his voice is quiet and shaky, and he can feel Cecil’s smile.

 Cecil fucks Carlos with his fingers some more - first two, then three - and drops kisses on the nape of his neck, the small of his back, his hip, his shoulder. Carlos squirms and moans and tightens his fists in the sheets, and keeps his eyes open the entire time, keeps his head turned to one side and his eyes on Cecil, ‘cause he still can’t quite believe this is real.

 Then Cecil’s pulling his fingers out with a slick, filthy noise. The sound Carlos makes at being empty is pathetic.

 “Shh,” Cecil says, “Shh, Carlos, won’t be long, I’ll make you feel so good.” He reaches across Carlos to retrieve a condom from the bedside table, and Carlos watches him open it and slide it down over his cock, and then Cecil’s hands are on him again, smoothing over his back calmingly, rubbing gently at the curve of his ass. “Raise your hips,” he says, and Carlos does, and the head of Cecil’s dick is against his hole and he’s ready for this, he’s so ready.

 “Please, Cecil,” he says, and then cries out as the head of Cecil’s cock presses inside him.

 Cecil runs one hand through Carlos’ hair again, tugging gently, and the other goes to hold his hip, to hold him steady as Cecil slides deeper inside him, until his hips are resting against his ass. “You feel so good,” Cecil says, “So, so good. Carlos. My Carlos.”

 “Yes,” hisses Carlos, and tries jerking his hips back against Cecil. He’s stretched and full and it feels wonderful, but not enough. He needs more. He needs Cecil to fuck him, needs Cecil to hold him down and pound him until they’re both aching and sweaty and sore.

 Cecil circles his hips, slowly, slowly. Fucks Carlos shallowly, holding his hips still, only nudging against his prostate. And Carlos, who is still half-asleep, and so turned on his balls ache, twitches around him and tries to rock back against him and makes a perfect desperate little noise in the back of his throat.

 Cecil pulls back slow as ever, relishing the drag of his cock against Carlos’ insides, until only his head is enveloped in tight heat, and slams home without warning.

 “ _Mierda_!” Carlos’ back bows as Cecil fucks into him hard. “Yes, fuck, Cecil -” He’s babbling, he knows, but it’s only because he wants this so much. Cecil fucks him so well, every stroke feeling like heaven, and his hand tightens in his hair and pulls Carlos back against him so they’re pressed against each other, skin sliding together as Cecil thrusts faster and faster.

 Cecil’s speaking, now, lips moving against the skin of Carlos’ shoulder. He’s saying Carlos’ name, and “Darling” and “Gorgeous” and “Perfect,” and Carlos revels in Cecil’s words, in his voice, usually so smooth, now hoarse and broken. “So perfect, Carlos, you’re so beautiful - I love you, I love fucking you like this, you feel so good -”

 And, “Cecil,” Carlos says, because it’s all he can say now. It’s all he can feel, Cecil inside him and around him, and he’s almost overwhelmed with it.

 “Yes,” says Cecil. He wraps one hand around Carlos’ dick, twists the other in Carlos’ hair, and Carlos’ orgasm catches him off guard. He chokes out a surprised, “Oh,” and then he’s coming, shaking apart in Cecil’s arms.

 Cecil bites him once, hard, on the shoulder, and then he’s coming too, thrusting into Carlos in short, violent jerks. Carlos’ muscles give out, then, and he collapses onto the bed. Cecil pulls out, gets rid of the condom, and follows.

 Carlos reaches out blindly to take Cecil’s hand and curl their fingers together, pulling Cecil close to him. Cecil’s saying something, but Carlos is too sleepy to pay attention. Everything’s melting into each other, and he’s so comfortable and well-fucked and warm, and Cecil’s body is solid against his back.

 He’s home in Night Vale, and he’s not going anywhere.


End file.
